Pray you don't get stuck with Bernhard Langer, unless you enjoy long walks among statuary, or Ernie Els, because the way he's driving it, someone could build a Wal-Mart between your ball and his. And if Tiger plays, run—unless you like choppers, SWAT teams and National Enquirer photographers.
Here's what you do: See if you can get paired with one of the five guys who this year can't keep up with your average drive of 265.6 yards: Mark Brooks, Gavin Coles, Brad Faxon, Paul Goydos or Loren Roberts. (As you walk past one of their drives, casually say, "Does your husband play?")
If you can't get with them, see if you can get paired with Ian Woosnam. You won't outdrive him, but at 5'6", at least you're taller than he is.
Your drives are straighter than Al Gore and should get you to the corner of most of Colonial's gorgeous par-4 doglegs. Yeah, you'll be hitting four-iron from there while most of the men will be pulling seven-iron, but you hit 80 freaking percent of your greens last year, so I'm not worried.
Problem is, the guys who set up the course are from the PGA Tour, and they don't particularly want a woman to be able to beat their boys and give birth, so they're going to put the pins in prisons—behind bunkers, on the edges of ponds, under Haagen-Dazs carts—places you can only get close to with a lot of spin, which you won't have. Men are pigs.
Still, you can be a witch with the putter, so I figure you'll shoot par over the first two days, which last year was good enough to make the cut by four shots. That is, unless you fold like a tortilla under the...
There will be piano crates of it on you out there. This is the tensest moment for womankind since Condi Rice entered Dick Cheney's office football pool. If you choke, you'll set women's golf back to long skirts and bonnets. You'll hear it the rest of your life: So what if you won at every LPGA tour stop this year? You still couldn't whup Ty Tryon!